Trench Coats are for Old People
by unstablenotinsane
Summary: AU: Dean and Cas have had a rocky relationship to say the least... but what happens when stupid teenage hormones, high school, maturity, and college get in the way? COVER ART IS NOT MINE.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything, or any part of the Supernatural Franchise, other than my role in creating this fanfiction. None of the characters belong to me.

**Disclaimer 2:** THE COVER ART IS NOT MINE! I REPEAT: NOT MINE! It's Autumn-Water's on Deviant art, and her stuff is really great, so go check her out. I couldn't get ahold of her without giving out my personal email (which I'm not about to put on the glorious internet...), so I just wanted to make sure you all know it's not mine. Mine. Haha. As if.

**Warnings:** A little bit of violence, not to graphic in the beginning, but I may have to change the rating later on. Definitely sexual themes, if I get to a point where a smut scene would work, I'll create a separate paragraph, but it won't be on here. Language, drinking, smoking, teenage parties (later on), and I'm hoping for some serious angst later on (haven't written in before, so that's why I'm _hoping_ ;)).

**Rating:** T (could change to M later for violence/drinking/etc.)

**Pairings:** DeanxCastiel, little bit of SamxGabriel

**Spoiler Warnings:** Non-applicable

**Universe:** Alternate, no hunting, and sadly Destiel isn't 'officially canon' (It totally is. Totally is.)

* * *

Dean Winchester hated a lot of stuff. He hated his stupid kindergarden school, his stupid teacher, Miss Valerie, and he hated his stupid near-nonexistent playground. But if you asked him what he hated most? He would answer stupid Castiel Novak, no ifs, ands, ors, or buts. Sadly, he couldn't _really_ call the Novak kid _stupid _(even though that was his favorite word), because, come one, he was reading a Bernstein Bears book on the first day, on his own! Dean knew it was a Bernstein Bear book, because that was the one _he _had wanted for his birthday, but Dad had said it was too expensive.

Ever since he had laid eyes on that Novak kid, he was a mix of emotions. He hated him, _wanted _to hate him, but he was just too nice, in a really weird way. It made him feel guilty. Like once, when Dean was reading a page from _The Rainbow Fish_ out loud in class, everyone had laughed at him, because he pronounced 'amazed' _ah-mah-zud_, and Castiel Novak was the only one in the class apart from Miss Valerie that didn't laugh. Of course, that made him hate assbutt even more.

Assbutt was a word he had learned from one of Dad's friends, that told him never to use it. But Dean was a big boy - he didn't call his dad _daddy_ anymore, so he could say assbutt if he wanted to. So he did. To Castiel Novak. The ultimate assbutt. And got detention and a call home. Dad wasn't happy.

* * *

"Hey, assbutt! What're you doing? Reading another book? You know, it don't matter around here if you read lots. Maybe Miss Valerie likes you best, but I sure as heck don't think it's cool." Dean felt a little bad when the kid looked him in the eyes, like he had just kicked his puppy. Dean knew _that _feeling, from when Dad had taken Rosie to the adoption center when Dean's first report card came home. Dean later learned that Dad had just thrown her into the river, leaving her to fend for herself. He quickly shook the thought away. No _way _was assbutt as heartbroken as he was when Rosie was pushed into the pickup truck and driven away. I mean, come on, it was just a few words!

"Hello Dean. I don't think Miss Valerie likes me best, teachers never pick favorites, I don't think it's allowed. And I don't think that you should say those words, and you don't say 'don't', you say 'doesn't', because it wouldn't sound right if you said, "...It 'do not' matter ar-" Castiel was interrupted by a swift uppercut to his left cheekbone. Dean almost got whiplash from turning his head around so fast - only to see Axl Parker in front of assbutt, clutching his - now flushed - knuckles.

"He was talking too much. And he was damn near close to insulting you, Winchester," said Axl, in response to the slightly horrified glances of the rest of the 'bully troupe', Hunter & Bucky Faye, Maddox Payne, and, of course the ringleader, Dean Winchester.

Dean tried not to look at the scene on the floor in front of him as the teacher on duty started running over to them to tend to Castiel and yell at the other boys, but couldn't help it as Miss Valerie came out and dragged him and Maddox (they were both in her class) to the principal's office. The last thing he remembered before going inside was baby blue eyes brimming with tears that had just started to flow down his cheeks, soothing the angry red of the left side of his face.

* * *

After that, Axl Parker started getting even more violent, until he was expelled from school in the seventh grade, and his Momma moved them the hell out of the little town called Lawrence, and moved to LA to be an actress. They never heard from Axl Parker again. However, the damage was already done, and poor Castiel Novak had come to expect the weekly beatings he got behind the bleachers at the little league pitch on his way home. The group of boys, or 'jerks', as that was their name in Cas's mind, were responsible for these drubbings, and every single one of them landed punches into his stomach, chest, and arms, as if their frustration could be channeled through bruised fists and well placed knees. Thank god Axl had left, though. He was always the most brutal, the only one to try hitting his face, trying to inflict lasting damage, even threatening him with a knife, once.

Cas hated Axl Parker. Really, truly hated him. With all the bones in his body, he despised the stupid, redheaded idiot **(A/N: umm, just wanted to say, I have NOTHING against redheads, I just stole his name from Axl Rose [Guns n Roses], and roses are red, so... Yeah. Just wanted to say. You know. Not like, red-cist, or something. Rambling... Anyhoo. Back to the story)** that made the most visible marks on his body - the ones he _couldn't _hide from his family with a beige trench coat. The ones he was forced to lie about, and so his family was clueless about the origin of his black eyes and bloody noses. Except Gabe. It seemed he could never lie to Gabe and get away with it - Gabe always saw through him, and would question him about it later. One day, Castel couldn't keep lying and making up stupid excuses to his older brother, so it eventually all came spilling out, until he caught himself before accidentally tossing out Dean Winchester's name in the word vomit he was hurling. Gabe never managed to get the who or the where out of his little brother, so he decided that he would find out himself. No one messes with a fucking Novak. Especially Baby Novak.

* * *

**A/N: **So. I wrote a new story! Yay! And it's a multi-chapter! *pats self on back awkwardly* I definitely didn't expect to write this, but Destiel scenes have been popping into my head all week, and so I started planning a little, and I just kind of... wrote it. I'm aware there are probably a few grammar errors, but right now I'm on a serious writer's high (is that even a thing?) and I don't really care. So, reviews would be appreciated, even if they're not kind ;) But I'd rather have constructive criticism rather than just flames, so yeah. Hope to have the next chapter out maybe next week, maybe Friday or sooner.

xx

K


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything, or any part of the Supernatural Franchise, other than my role in creating this fanfiction. None of the characters belong to me.

**Disclaimer 2:** THE COVER ART IS NOT MINE! I REPEAT: NOT MINE! It's **Autumn-Water's** on Deviant art, and her stuff is really great, so go check her out. I couldn't get ahold of her without giving out my personal email (which I'm not about to put on the glorious internet...), so I just wanted to make sure you all know it's not mine. Mine. Haha. As if.

**Warnings:** A little bit of violence, not to graphic in the beginning, but I may have to change the rating later on. Definitely sexual themes, if I get to a point where a smut scene would work, I'll create a separate story, but it won't be on here. Language, drinking, smoking, teenage parties (later on), and I'm hoping for some serious angst later on (haven't written in before, so that's why I'm _hoping_ )).

**Rating:** T (could change to M later for violence/drinking/etc.)

**Pairings:** DeanxCastiel, little bit of SamxGabriel

**Spoiler Warnings:** Non-applicable

**Universe:** Alternate, no hunting, and sadly Destiel isn't 'officially canon' (It totally is. Totally is.)

* * *

John Winchester was sitting in his favorite armchair at the roadhouse - an comfy beige one with multiple questionable stains. He looked around the bar, looking for any familiar faces that could be passing through town - quite a few Berets **(A/N: for those of you that don't know, a Green Beret is the SF for the marines. Kind of like the Marines' version of the Seals. I don't know if John was in the Army, but I'm to lazy to look it up. So for this story's purposes, he was a Green Beret) **passed through the roadhouse, because their dead buddy's - William Harvelle - wife and her daughter owned the place.

John closed his eyes and emptied the Blue Ribbon bottle into his mouth. Will was _not_ someone he needed to remember right now. He had responsibilities - he couldn't just get wasted and fuck his memories away.

After signaling to Ellen for another beer, John resumed his searching for an old pal or two. Out of the corner of his eye, at the pool table, was an old buddy and one time mission partner, Mathew Ripley, in a muscle shirt with the Marine's slogan 'Semper Fidelis' embodied across the front. John was about to hoist himself up and go say hello when Jo Harvelle sashayed in front of him, angrily swaying her hips, and slammed the beer bottle in front of him, spilling some over the side. She fixed him with a glare that would make any god-fearing man turn and run, and said, "John, you had better teach that goddamn son of yours some fucking-"

"Joanna Beth Harvelle, watch your language!"

"-manners. And you can tell him that he can find another damn date to Homecoming because over my dead body is anyone ever remembering that Joanna Beth Harvelle went to the eighth grade graduation dance with Dean Winchester, sexist pig extraordinaire! I have self respect!"

_Well shit. What'd the boy do now? _Dean was always pissing Jo off, and John worried that one day Jo wouldn't just brush it off with a few choice words and a glare, that she'd be extremely hurt, and Dean would miss his chance to marry a nice girl and settle down.

He'd better go and teach his boy a lesson. Didn't need to look like a fucking sexist parent - that'd be bad for business.

* * *

"The hell she's _hurt_. Joanna Beth Harvelle, hurt? You ever fucking meet her, Dad?"

"Don't you sass me, boy. You don't know shit about women, you have no fucking clue about what hurts them."

"Oh, Jesus, not again, Dad. I have heard this fucking story so many times! I know you regret your last words to mom, I know you think you were responsible for her death because you weren't there to protect her, blah, blah, blah. Family's important, but you always fucking forget about the family you have _now_. Don't forget the past, but don't stay stuck there. You'll get lost."

John seethed - his own son, telling him how do deal with his grief about losing his wife - the woman that pushed this ungrateful little fucker out of her vagina.

"Don't you tell me to forget about the past, Dean. You don't know shit about how hard it is..."

"I don't know shit? Excuse me?"

Dean couldn't hold back anymore; he let years of repressed anger out, memories that had been building up since he was a toddler.

"You think I don't feel the loss of a mother every fucking time you don't come home and I have to take care of Sammy? Every time you spent the night at some whorehouse and I had to tell him you were 'working'? Don't you fucking tell me I don't know shit."

John's patience was hanging on by a thread, wearing thinner with every pound of his aching, blurry head.

"I will fucking tell you whatever the fucking-fuck I want to fucking tell you, you unappreciative little piece of shit."

"Dad, listen, can you sign this? I need a signed form for permission to go to Topeka for the Debate, and-"

"Goddamnit, Sammy! No, I'm in the middle of a fucking conversation! Will you just wait for two fucking minutes before-"

"Don't you get him involved in this, Dad. You're pissed at me. Don't yell at Sammy, he ain't done nothing wrong."

"_Don't you get him involved in this, Dad. Oh, I'm Dean Winchester and I fucking know soo much that I teach my fucking father how to be a parent!"_

Dean narrowed his eyes, "Are you drunk?"

Snap. The thread was gone.

John lunged at Dean, arms outstretched, fists curled and seeking something to make contact with. He managed to clip Dean's shoulder, but in his inebriated state, was unbalanced and fell, hitting his head on the kitchen table.

The next thing he knew, he was on the floor, facing sideways, in a pool of some sort of juice. His shoulder hurt like a bitch, and he was so dazed he couldn't form any coherent thoughts._  
_

* * *

"Apple... orange... or... fuck... hurts... head... fuckin..."

Sammy stared wide-eyed at his mumbling father. Apart from the clock and the random words coming out from John's head, everything was silent. Dean was gaping at the mess on the floor in front of him, and wondering how he had missed that. They stayed like that for a while, Sammy still holding his debate form, Dean, tensed up and staring, John laying in a pool of spilled juice, and it was all quiet - peaceful, almost.

But just like that, their quiet was interrupted.

"Dean fucking Winchester," a pissed, girly voice shouted outside, amidst some serious banging on the door **(A/N: haha... not like, M rated banging, or anything, but like, you know, like, hit your hand on the door... I need to get my head out of the gutter...)**. "Why the hell haven't you responded to any of my calls? Or texts? The reason I got you a phone was so you could use it, goddamn it!"

Sammy was so startled his form floated down onto the linoleum floor, and Dean grinned after a moment of confusion.

"Knew she wasn't hurt, and she can't resist me, neither."

All of a sudden, there was a large crash of glass shattering, the thud of a human falling on concrete, and a wail that could be heard on the other side of Kansas.

"Oh shit," suddenly Dean looked worried. He ran the rest of the way to the door, and yanked it open. Jo Harvelle was leaning on the door though, clutching her foot, and as she felt the stability give way from under her, she fell onto Dean, knocking them both over.

"Damn, Jo. You know, anytime you want to be on top of me, hun, you just go 'head and ask, 'cause I've got no objections."

His response was a red mark across his face, in the shape of a handprint. Specifically, Jo's handprint.

"Son of a..."

"Not a boy, sweetheart, but just so you know, if you start feeling insecure about your sexual orientation, you just..."

Dean's head snapped up, red with humiliation, "I'm no fucking faggot, Jo! Jesus, the hell made you think that?"

"Relax, Winchester, I was kidding!" Jo got up from her built (for a 14 year old) seat cushion and stretched, her cotton, white tank top riding up and exposing a thin sliver of skin. Dean's throat suddenly went dry, his mind went wild, and was getting close to having to cross his legs, when Sammy interrupted his rated x, teenage boy fantasies.

"Dean, that's an extremely derogatory term for gay men - that's really rude of you to say something like that."

"Sammy, don't tell me your a damn faggot hugger, now are you?"

"I asked if you could stop using that word, come on, Dean, that's really mean."

"Sam, listen, you don't understand - it's not natur-"

Dean was suddenly cut off by a low curse. "Holy shit, Dean," Jo whipped around, focusing her eyes onto Dean, brown demanding an explanation from green, "is that... your dad?"

* * *

Castiel was sitting awkwardly on his bed, holding a tissue paper up to his bleeding nose. He was faced by a livid Gabe, and an assortment of confused siblings and family members - Anna, Balthazar, and Lucifer (Lucifer, only because he saw Cas's bloody face, and demanded to be let into his room).

"Dean Winchester? Dean fucking Winchester, Cas? That's the little fucker doing this to you? You know his mom was a family friend, right?"

"I'm aware, Gabe."

"So..."

"So?"

"You know..."

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

"Mom could have a talk with his dad - John, I think - and get him to be such an asshat."

Balthazar interrupted, "Look," he began with his strange, English **(A/N: woah, England! Across the pond it's so much better! Sorry, it's just I feel like everyone's an Anglophile, and don't get me wrong - England's great, but I just feel like this craze, is like, waaay out of hand. Sorry if I offended anybody -.-) **accent, "Will someone _please_ bloody explain to me what the hell's going on? I feel so out of the loop - it's terrible." He finished by falling onto Cas, arm draped over his head in mock hurt, and his eyes closed. This dramatic ending, however, proved to be quite problematic, as the baby Novak was unprepared, and, in any case, too weak, and so poor Balthy fell flat on his butt, blue-clad ass to blue-clad floor.

But, it did make Cas giggle, and forget about his nosebleed, which Gabriel so kindly reminded him of.

"Balthazar, stop acting like an idiot, Luci - that's for Cas to tell you, and Cas, why the fuck aren't you more mad? Your nose is bleeding like Maxy's butt!" **(A/N: Get your mind out of the gutter.)**

Maxine was the Novak family dog when Cas was a baby, and was still considered a part of the family, even more than a decade after her death. Gabe was referring to the time that she had accidentally ate a tub of vaseline, and had to wear a diaper for a week.

"Because, Gabriel, I'm tired of you interfering in my business. Also, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me, remember? I'm not a little boy, Gabe, I can deal with this on my own"

"Sticks and stones may..." Gabe faded off, exasperated, "That's bullshit and you know it. And you can deal with it? What a joke. If you could deal with it, you wouldn't be coming home bruised and bleeding every day." 

"Wait... Okay, so this _Dean Winchester, _whoever he is - his name rings a bell, though - is what, beating baby up?" Anna asked, completely lost, and trying to understand.

"Cas can tell you," Gabriel bit out.

"No."

Gabe glared, and Cas glared right back."

* * *

**A/N: **Yay! I got a new chapter out! I think this Monday-posting thingy'll work out well. Ugh, I have finals to study for, and instead, guess what I've been doing? What, procrastinating and writing fanfiction? *gasp* Yep. Oh well. Sorry about how short my chapters are, but oh well. I think I'll aim for 2,000 words a chapter (haha, some of you are probably rolling your eyes: What a noob this girl is). Anyhoo, please review!

xx

K


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